Stand By
by Danea
Summary: After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals no, not Voldermort or Snape leads Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** This is the first chapter of a multi-chaptered story. This was previously published, though unfinished. I took it down to redo and tweak some plot holes.

The stairs creaked as Harry Potter made his way from his dorm tower to the common room. There was a fire lit in the fireplace, and here and there throughout the room there were candles lit as well. Aside from the light given out from the flames, the room was fairly dark. Harry whistled softly to himself as he walked, casually unknotting his school uniform tie. He slipped it off, tossing it onto the overstuffed red couch that sat in front of the fire.

Next, he unbuttoned his white collared shirt, sliding it off with one easy movement. It was folded and placed neatly beside the tie. Harry continued, toeing out of his shoes before bending to remove his socks. Both were tucked beneath the couch.

Dressed only in a white undershirt and black pants, Harry gently perched on the edge of a wingback chair which sat diagonal from the couch. His back was to the fire, which caught the shape of the chair and Harry's sitting form and tossed odd shadows across the walls.

The common room was empty, devoid of student life. It was Winter Break at Hogwarts School, and for the first time since Harry had begun attending the school, all students, from 1st year up through 7th, had gone home for the break. This included Harry's two closest friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They had reluctantly announced their holiday plans days earlier and begged Harry to join them. He had turned them down, grateful to spend a quite Christmas alone in the castle.

And Harry truly was alone, almost. As far as he knew, every student had gone home for the break. The only ones left at the school were the teachers that elected to stay. Harry figured that most students had been ordered to return home. He also figured it had something to do with Headmaster Dumbledore's shocking end of the year announcement; the feared Dark Lord Voldermort was alive.

People were scared. It had been years since they'd lived with everyday fear in their lives. Though the Ministry of Magic still refused to acknowledge the truth, Dumbledore still had a strong following. If he said that Voldermort was back, then it was true. The fear they felt was evident on the sharp decline in student enrollment. There were very few 1st years compared to years past, and even some of the older years were missing students. Harry had heard a few students mentioning other witches and wizards going into hiding. Dumbledore had said on numerous occasions that if the Ministry didn't take control soon, there would be mass panic in the wizarding world.

But none of that truly mattered to Harry. Not anymore, at least. Once, he had been caught up in Dumbledore's fights. He had tried so hard to be the golden boy that the mass public wanted him to be, but no longer. Not since that night.

Just thinking of the events made Harry's stomach turnover. Still, the memories were never far from his mind. The night had been months ago, but every second seemed to burn an eternity. Harry sighed, pulling his legs up to his chest. Sometimes, when he thought hard about that night, he could feel it again; feel the cold grass as he and Cedric landed with an unexpected thud, feel the pain of the hexes the cast again and again. The worst was the sick sense of horror that he had felt as Cedric's lifeless body had fallen to the ground. Then, of course, there were the other memories. But Harry didn't dare try to bring those to mind. He remembered those well enough without any effort at all.

No one understood what he was going through. They tried the best they could. But even his close friends had started to grow a bit annoyed with him and his inability to let the events of the night go. They didn't know the whole story though. No one did. Even as Harry had recounted his story to Dumbledore, he had instinctively left out the worst of the nights events. He couldn't let anyone know how deeply that night had changed him. They saw him as Harry Potter, the famed Boy Who Lived. But in his heart, he felt nothing but a deep, black depression. Every night, Harry Potter dreamed of his own suicide.

He couldn't imagine how his friends would react to that. He was careful to smile just so, to keep the darkness of his mind separate from his friends. It had become routine to him; smile here, laugh there. And even then, they still found him to be more depressing that they could stand. Harry wondered what their reactions would be after tonight. After he killed himself.

He'd planned it as best he could, waiting until the dorm would be empty. Earlier, he'd begged out of dinner, claiming a headache, so no one would be looking for him until well into the next day. He'd taken full advantage of the luxury of time, washing in a scalding shower and carefully cleaning up his dorm room. But now, as the night progressed, he knew it was time.

On the couch, just left of his shirt and tie, a single blade lay, glowing in the firelight. It was cold to the touch, despite the warmth of the room. He reached for it, grasping it delicately between his fingers. It seemed to hiss as the cold metal met his warmed skin. Ever so gently, he placed the blade into his fist, pressing so that the edges caught the flesh, leaving dull marks on his pale skin. Any harder and he knew he'd draw blood. The sight fascinated him, the metal against his flesh. It was the image of a hundred dreams; a hundred nightmares.

The moment seemed perfect. He'd spent the day preparing the room, casting stain-repellant charms. When his body was removed, there would be no mark left to indicate that Harry Potter had ever existed within the dorm walls. All his belongings were packed into a wooden trunk, which was set to disintegrate when opened by anyone other than him. There would be nothing left, which was exactly what he wanted.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the empty room, his voice thick with pain. He hadn't intended to speak out loud, but the moment had overwhelmed him and there was much left unsaid. "I'm sorry for the fear and the pain that seemed to accompany me wherever I went. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to take that bastard out with me. I'm sorry for so many stupid, little things. The Quidditch games I cost us, the house points I lost. For making Snape hate Gryffindor that much more just because I had the nerve to be sorted in. And for Cedric..." Harry paused, feeling something heavy fill his stomach. "Mostly, I'm just sorry that I wasn't the sort of person who makes the world better. I only seemed to mess it up worse."

His voice drifted off into a sigh. No one was there to listen; his speech was pointless. And he's wasted enough time already; 15 years too many. The blade was against his wrist now, poised to make the first cut. He had the vague thought that he should say something in respect to goodbye, but there was nothing to say. So, with one determined motion, he drew the blade down his arm. The cut had been a good one. Blood welled up quickly before spilling over the sides of his arm.

In a moment, spots appeared before his eyes. The blade fell from his hand, landing in a growing puddle of blood. He was sleepy, and he knew if he closed his eyes, they'd never open again. He'd done exactly what he wanted. Harry Potter had killed himself.

Harry was so lost in what he thought was his last moments of life, he never even heard the entrance to the dorm rooms. "Oh my God!" came the sudden cry from across the room. It startled Harry back into reality. "What the hell did you do, Potter?" the voice continued. Harry felt a wry smile tugging at his lips, though he lacked the energy to bring it fully forth. He would recognize the slightly whiny voice anywhere.

"Malfoy, get out!" Harry cried, his voice too weak to support the threat he'd intended it to carry. Instead, it came out as a slurred mess of words which Draco Malfoy seemed to grasp the gist of.

"You're trying to kick me out now?" Draco snorted in disbelief. "What, are you trying to off yourself, Potter?" Draco seemed immensely overwhelmed by the situation, his silver eyes dancing with emotions. "I always knew you were a nut!"

"Shut up," Harry moaned. He was starting to feel very dizzy, the room tilting dangerously before his eyes. Draco's interruption had drawn him from the safe cocoon he'd been in, and now the reality of the situation was quickly becoming too much for Harry to take. He felt as if he would be sick, but his body was to drained to put forth the effort. "Just go!"

"Yeah, right," Draco snorted. "Look, Potter, we've got a little problem here. Dumbledore sent me up to fetch you for dinner. He knows I'm here. So how well do you think it will go over if you wind up dead?"

"Go..."Harry cried weakly.

"Would you shut up? You sound like a dying kitten!" Draco growled in frustration. "I'm trying to tell you something important here. I'm not taking any chance on being blamed for this little stunt of yours. So either I start screaming bloody murder and get every professor in the castle here, or you heal up your little cuts and play nice until after dinner. It's up to you, Potter."

Harry felt a swell of tears in his chest. He'd been so close, and then Draco had come in to ruin it all. Draco seemed too serious for Harry to ignore. It would be horrible if Dumbledore, or any of the professors saw him in his current state. At least he knew Draco wouldn't try to stop him again. The choice was pretty obvious.

There was only one problem. Harry didn't think he had the strength left to preform even the simplest healing spell. Already his arms and legs were numb, and the numbness was starting to creep up his abdomen and into his chest. Even if his mouth could form the words, his body didn't have the energy to carry a spell.

"I can't..." Harry managed to say, trying to gesture at his weakened body. For a moment, he was sure Draco was about to start screaming for help. But then he seemed to grasp Harry's dilemma.

"God, Potter. I have to heal you too?" Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. "This is turning into a real pain in my ass. Couldn't you have just waited and done this on your own time? Trust Potter to screw up killing himself!" As he spoke, Draco was already pulling out his wand, readying the healing spell.

But darkness was closing in on the edges of Harry's sight. The loss of blood was starting to overwhelm him. His vision narrowed to a pinpoint, focusing on Draco's mouth as he began to speak. Harry never heard the words, though, as his body gave in to the exhaustion and pain, and he slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the reviews!

Light was trying to creep in through Harry's tightly shut eyes. It seemed to grow brighter the more he tried to pull away. He wished that it would just disappear and let him sleep. From the tips of his toes, up to the top of his head, his entire body hurt and a sheer exhaustion seemed to weigh every limb down. A few hours of sleep sounded like a great idea. But the light was persistent. Harry moaned as it centered in on him again.

"Wake up!" someone was yelling. A rough grip pulled him up, not waiting for his body to support itself before the hands released him. Harry fell back with a painful thud. "You have got to be kidding me!" the same voice growled. "Wake up, you bastard! Before I kill you myself!"

Slowly, Harry pried his eyes open, letting the blurry room come into focus before he dared to move. As his vision cleared, a sudden shock of panic ran through his body. Draco Malfoy kneeled over him, wand in hand as if ready to hex Harry into the next year.

Harry moved quickly, ready to dive for his wand, but a wave of dizziness overtook him before he could get very far. He was vaguely aware of Draco taking his arm and laying him back down. Draco muttered, "I told you to wake up, not freak out."

"What the hell did you do to me?" Harry cried, fear rising as he realized just how weak he truly was.

Draco snorted in surprise. "Lot of thanks I get for saving your sorry ass."

"What?" Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his head. He was beginning to remember what had happened. After months of planning and waiting, he'd finally completed his plan to kill himself. And just as he'd been about to slip into the safe abyss, Draco had come in and ruined everything. Suddenly, Harry wasn't feeling weak anymore. He was angry.

"You want me to thank you for ruining everything?" Harry snapped. "You didn't do my any favors, Malfoy. All you did was protect yourself."

"You are insane, Potter. Truly, you are," Draco sneered, pushing himself up off the floor. "You can take a flying leap off of the highest tower for all I care. But I'm not going to take the blame for it. Dumbledore and his lot are just waiting to jump on me for something. And you're not going to give them a reason."

Harry didn't bother to reply, except to direct a scathing glare at Draco as he clumsily stood. He chose not to sit, despite the weakness in his legs. When facing Draco, he found it best to never give him any sort of advantage. Keeping an eye on the light-haired boy, Harry pulled back on his earlier discarded clothes. His wand, which he'd chosen to keep tucked in his shirt pocket, was still there and he made a show of pulling it out before sliding it into his pants pocket instead. Draco looked unimpressed.

"If you're finished with your little show, Potter, maybe we could get going?" Draco nodded towards the door. "Dumbledore sent me up to retrieve you for the big Christmas feast he's got planned. He said we had to wait for you before we could eat and I'm hungry."

Harry slipped on his shoes as he replied, "Let's go, Malfoy. I'd hate for you to die of starvation." He moved to follow Draco, who was already heading for the door, but stopped suddenly as a sharp pain blossomed behind his eyes. "Oh God," he moaned, dropping his head into his hands.

Draco appeared next to him, his hands cool on Harry's shoulder as he lead him to a chair. "The headache is probably from blood loss. I did what I could with the wounds, but I'm no mediwizard. Kind of makes you regret being so foolish, doesn't it?"

"Do you always have to say something snotty?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. "Why didn't you just do an all-purpose pain relieving spell?"

"I did, thank you," Draco snapped in reply. "But I don't think that covers blood loss."

"Then what the hell am I suppose to do? I can't even bloody see straight!" For a moment, Harry was sure Draco had finally given up and left, because there was no answer. But a small vial was suddenly forced into his hands and Draco roughly instructed him to drink it. "Without knowing what it is?" Harry laughed. "I don't think so. It's probably poison."

Malfoy sarcastically replied, "Oh yes, Potter. You've figured it all out. Instead of them finding you dead by your own hand, I want them to find you poisoned. That will take the suspicion right off of me! What a genius I am!"

The pain was worsening and Harry was starting to feel sick to his stomach. Even if the vial was poison, it would accomplish exactly what he had set out to do that night. Either way, Harry had to do something. So he tipped the vial into his mouth, drinking it all in one gulp. It was surprisingly sweet, like sugared grapes, but it left a cold feeling as it traveled down his throat and to his stomach.

He felt the effects spread, like a soft tingling just under his skin. The pain disappeared, as did the nausea and the dizziness. When Harry felt as if he could stand again, he pushed himself up. "Thanks, Malfoy," he muttered reluctantly. "What was that, anyway?"

"A numbing potion," Draco answered. "And you're welcome, Potter." His customary sneer deepened into a smirk. "We wouldn't want you passing out in your pudding at dinner, now would we? Somehow I think that might catch someone's attention."

"Why did you have a numbing potion with you?" Harry asked, surprised when the other boy was silent. It had been a casual observation, not a hard-hitting question, but as Harry watched, a myriad of emotions played across Draco's face. He finally settled on a resigned sort of anger, casting Harry a dark look.

"Just leave it, Potter. We're not friends, so we needn't go sharing anything with one another. I'm not asking you why you're up here slitting you wrists, now am I?" Draco replied shortly. "So just let it go. I'm heading down."

"God, Malfoy. It was just a question!" Harry cried, following Draco out the door. "From your reaction, you'd think there was some big secret. Not like I'd care anyway."

"Then we're agreed. You don't care, I don't care. So shut up!" Draco growled, purposefully quickening his stride so that Harry, who was still feeling a bit weak, had to push himself to catch up.

The walk to the Great Hall was silent, and it gave Harry a chance to reflect on the unusual turn of events. Just hours earlier, he'd been planning out the final details of his suicide. And now he was going to dinner, following behind Draco Malfoy of all people. The same Draco Malfoy who had essentially saved his life, whether the move was backed by a selfish motive or not. Harry glanced down at his wrists, were only the faintest hint of a scar remained. Draco had done a thorough job. He'd even cleaned up the blood from the dorm room. It was certainly strange behavior from someone Harry considered an enemy.

But he didn't have much more time to follow that train of thought. As the boys entered the hall, Dumbledore called out, "Welcome, my dear boys! Please, sit! I'm sure we are all very eager to eat!" The elderly headmaster pointed to the only empty seats at the small table, directly beside one another. The boys sat without exchanging a single glance. Harry purposefully avoided the other boy as he glanced around the table.

The usual large dining tables had been replaced with a small one, just right for the gathered group. Harry had been right in his assumption that he was nearly the only student left in the school. Aside from Draco, the rest of the dinner guests were all teachers. Only seven had remained over the break, including Severus Snape, much to Harry's displeasure.

The potions master had been especially hard on Harry during the school year, even more so than years before. The dislike between the two had risen to new heights, despite the revelation that they were both fighting on the same side against the Dark Lord. Snape seemed unable to let go of his hatred for Harry's father. And it carried through to Harry himself. Not a day went by when there wasn't a cruel word or unreasonable punishment from Snape. It was just another aspect of Harry's life that had led him to his early actions.

The clinking of a glass broke through Harry's thoughts, and he turned to find Dumbledore on his feet, readying for a speech. Casting one last, angry glance at Snape, Harry turned his attention to the Headmaster.

"First, I would like to thank all of you who have chosen to remain here for Winter Break. We are the few." A few of the teachers nodded in agreement, and Dumbledore continued, "It is easy in dark times such as these to get lost in the fear. Hogwarts has always provided a safe haven for its students and professors. So, as we dine together over this holiday feast, it is my deepest wish that Hogwarts continues to provide protection for all those that ever have or ever will grace its halls." As he lifted his goblet, the other teachers followed suit. "May we all band together to remain strong, finding allies where we thought none existed. And may we all take comfort knowing that we are never alone in our fight, not while we have Hogwarts behind us!"

"Here, here!" cried Professor McGonagall, leading a few of the other teachers in applause. Harry forced a smile on his face, but couldn't bring himself to applaud. It had been a wonderfully motivating speech, but he could see right through it. Hogwarts was a school, not a fortress. The Dark Lord had infiltrated the school before, and no matter how Dumbledore tried, it was bound to happen again.

Dumbledore didn't seem to notice Harry's lack of participation, though. He seemed happy with the reaction his words had garnered. With a sweeping gesture, he quieted the applause. "With that said, I do believe it is time to eat!" Dumbledore announced as food suddenly popped onto the table. "Enjoy!"

Harry eyed the spread, debating on whether or not he really wanted to eat. The numbing potion had cleared up the nausea, though his stomach still felt heavy. He wasn't sure food would sit all that well. But it all looked so good. Finally, he decided a little bit of mashed potatoes and bit of stuffing couldn't hurt. He scooped a bit of both onto his plate, dousing them with gravy. But as he raised his fork to his mouth, he suddenly felt very ill. His stomach did a sickening flip, making him drop his fork with a loud clatter.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked from the other side of the table, eyeing the boy worriedly.

Though he felt awful, Harry forced a rueful smile, not wanting to draw any more questions than necessary. "Actually, no. I think I must have had a bit too much candy. I'm not feeling all that well," Harry lied, finishing the sentence off with a grimace. "If it's alright, I'd like to be excused. I think I'd like to lay down for a bit."

For a moment, Dumbledore looked as if he was going to question Harry further. But instead, an understanding smile crossed his face. "Well, 'tis the season, my dear boy. Of course you are excused. Shall I have Madame Pomfrey meet you in the hospital wing?"

"Oh no, thank you. I think I'll be fine," Harry answered. He stood quickly, moving to leave, but Dumbledore, who had stood to follow him, caught him in the doorway.

"Sine you aren't eating, perhaps you'd like to go visit a certain black dog down at Hagrid's?" Dumbledore suggested, his eyes twinkling. "I'm sure he'd appreciate the Christmas cheer."

Seeing his godfather was the last thing Harry wanted to do at the moment, but he didn't dare tell Dumbledore that. Instead, he forced yet another smile on his face. "Yeah, I bet he would. Thank you, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore looked suitably content as he clapped Harry on the shoulder, and then turned back towards his seat.

Glancing once more around the room, Harry nodded politely to the teachers who called out goodbyes. Draco was watching him, a curious, almost concerned expression on his face, but Harry didn't stop to ponder it. The night had been strange enough without delving into the mystery of Draco Malfoy. Instead, he hurried from the room and into the cool night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the reviews!

Through the darkness, Harry could see where Sirius waited, his large form a dark patch against the rolling grass. The weather was strangely warm for December, and Sirius seemed to be enjoying it. He hadn't caught sight of Harry approaching yet, seeming far more interested in something off in the distance. For a moment, Harry considered turning and hurrying back into the castle, pretending to have never seen Sirius at all. But in that moment of indecision, Sirius turned suddenly. As he saw Harry off in the distance, he began to bark happily. Apparently, Harry's decision had been made for him as Sirius, still in dog form, began bounding towards him.

Transforming mid-stride, Sirius cried out, "Harry! I didn't expect to see you here! I thought you were going with Ron for the break!"

"No, staying here," Harry answered, allowing Sirius to pull him into a large, overwhelming hug. "There off visiting some relatives and I thought it was more of a family affair."

"So you've been by yourself?" questioned Sirius.

"Pretty much," Harry shrugged.

Sirius looked upset at that, but didn't pursue the matter. Instead, he pulled Harry down so that they both were sitting in the cool grass. The moon had just come out from behind a cloud, giving Harry a full glimpse of his godfather. Sirius had dark circles under his eyes, evidence of many sleepless nights. And he looked as if he'd lost what little weight he'd managed to put on throughout the previous year.

"How are you, Sirius?" Harry asked, concern for his godfather temporarily overriding his desire to escape back to his dorm room. Sirius looked terrible, nearly as bad as the he'd looked when he'd escaped from prison. He was rail thin and pale, and his eyes were sunken and dark. The only difference Harry could see was that Sirius's hair had remained neatly trimmed and washed.

"Oh, I've been just fine. I was staying with Lupin for a bit. Dumbledore asked me to come up to bring some papers Lupin has been working on. I'm a bit faster on my feet than Moony this time of month," Sirius replied with a smile.

"And you've been taking care of yourself, right?"

Sirius shot Harry a quick glance. "Aren't I the adult here, Harry? Don't worry about me. I've been fine. I'm just glad to see you. We haven't had much of a chance to spend time together."

"No, we haven't."

A heavy silence settled over the pair, both wanting to say more, but not sure how to begin. It had always been easier for them to speak through letters. Harry had filled Sirius in on his family situation and his trouble at school, while Sirius had given Harry a glimpse into his past and a look at his parents. But now, face to face, neither could think what to say. They exchanged a glance, both looking away with nervous laughter.

"God, this is a bit strange, isn't it?" Sirius finally said. "I'm your godfather. This shouldn't be awkward. We just need to get to know each other a bit more. Start talking a bit, you know?"

"Sure," Harry nodded.

"Okay, well..." Before Sirius could go on, a loud beeping cut him off. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, square piece of plastic. "Oh, hell," he swore, frowning at the object. "I think someone is trying to get a hold of me."

"Is that a beeper?" Harry asked, peering down at the object.

"Yeah," Sirius replied distractedly, "It's this muggle thing that beeps whenever..."

"I know what a beeper is, Sirius," Harry cut him off. "But why do you have one?"

"Dumbledore thought it might be a little too risky for Lupin to contact me using owls every time he needs something, so he suggested this instead. That way it can't be traced magically. And if I'm in disguise, I'll look like just another muggle." Sirius frowned again. "Unfortunately, Lupin chose now to try and contact me. I really do need to go check on this."

"I understand," Harry nodded. When Sirius had first brought up the idea of getting to know each other, all thoughts of depression had been banished to the back of Harry's mind. Now, the disappointment of Sirius' announcement made all the feelings come rushing back. Harry had to fight to keep a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius apologized.

"No, it's okay. I really do understand," Harry hurried to assure him. "Tell Lupin I said hello, will you?"

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Harry. I promise."

"Okay."

Sirius gave Harry a quick hug before transforming back into his animal form. Harry watched the large, black dog run off past Hagrid's hut and towards the school, feeling sick to his stomach again. This time, though, he didn't think it had much to do with food. He was upset. Yet again, his chance at having a family seemed to be nothing more than a dream. Sirius was too busy to be who Harry needed him to be. And he probably always would be.

Sighing heavily, Harry his arms around himself, a sad echo of Sirius' embrace. Thoughts began to pound through his head, seemingly determined to drive him throughly mad. The silence he had sought earlier now seemed oppressive and he wondered if it would be better to fake a smile and sit through a dinner just so he wouldn't be alone.

"Potter, I just don't get you," Draco said, breaking the silence and making Harry jump in surprise. He seemed to materialize out of the darkness, coming to stand beside Harry. "Why are you in such a rush to off yourself when you've got someone that obviously cares for you?"

For a moment, Harry felt panic set it. Draco must have seen Sirius. He was sure to report him. "What are you doing here anyway?" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet. "Were you spying on me?"

"Oh, get over yourself," Draco rolled his eyes. "I wasn't spying on you. As if I had nothing better to do with my time. I just happen to walk by. It's not as if you were being secretive out here. You're in the middle of a bloody field."

"How long have you been sneaking around out here?" Harry cried, anger and panic evident in his voice.

"Do you mean how much did I hear?" Draco asked smugly. A dark smirk curled his lip. He looked like the cat who'd caught the canary. "Would you be referring to certain escapee? Namely, Sirius Black, Azkaban's most wanted. Also known as Harry Potter's godfather."

Harry's heart plummeted. This was his worst nightmare. They'd worked so hard to keep Sirius safe, and now Draco could ruin it all. "You going to run to your daddy, Malfoy?" Harry cried, near hysterical. "Just so he'll give you a pat on the head! Or maybe you'll go straight to Voldermort, your Dark Lord!"

"My Dark Lord?" Draco echoed.

"I'm sure you are the perfect little Death Eater in training. Have you killed anyone yet, Malfoy?" Harry spat.

"Watch your tone, Potter. In case you'd forgotten, I'm the one with the power to destroy your life. You might want to be a bit kinder to me," Draco hissed starting to lose his calm as Harry continued to verbally attack him.

"Destroy my life? You've been destroying my life every chance you get since I met you! You and your whole lot! You're so hell bent on making sure my life is crap that you can't see anything else! Why do you hate me so fucking much?" Harry screamed. His face was red with exertion and he was panting heavily. Draco looked wary despite his own anger.

"Potter..." Draco began. Before he could finish his sentence, Harry stumbled forward. The world shifted beneath his feet as his head began to spin. As he fell, Draco caught him under the arms, lowering him to the ground.

Harry still felt as if the world was spinning, despite the fact that he could feel the ground firm underneath him. He was vaguely aware of Draco hovering over him. Their was a cold hand pressed against Harry's cheek, and he turned towards it, inviting the coolness against his skin. Draco sighed, watching Harry's eyelids flutter.

"Potter, are you alright?" Draco asked. "Are you in pain? Potter?" Harry didn't reply to the questions. He was making a soft, moaning noise in the back of his throat, finishing off his look of total helplessness. "Oh, come on!" Draco cried. "This is getting ridiculous, Potter."

"It hurts so bad," Harry mumbled, his words thick. "Please don't...anymore...I can't."

Draco cast an odd glance at the other boy. "What are you on about?"

"No more, no more. I...hurt..." Harry moaned. "You can't! No! No!" Draco was beginning to seriously worry now. Harry was making no sense at all, at least none that Draco could discern. As he began to cry, Harry's cries turned desperate. "Please! I don't want...you can't do it! No...no!"

"Hush!" Draco quieted Harry, glancing around the grounds nervously. "The last thing either one of us needs is to be found now!"

"Don't touch!" Harry screamed, violently jerking away from Draco's hand. "No more! Please!" Turning onto his side, Harry curled into a small ball, burying his head in his chest. Draco watched, unsure of just what to do. He'd never seen anyone act the way Harry was acting.

"Potter, I'm going to give you some more of that potion. I need you to relax so you can drink it," Draco instructed. He hoped the potion would help the situation, but to be honest, he wasn't sure. Harry fought back at first, but Draco managed to get enough of the potion into his mouth. Harry seemed to calm instantly.

"Potter? Are you done with your little fit?" Draco asked after a moment. He nudged the other boy with an elbow, trying to gauge his lucidness.

"Don't poke me," Harry grumbled. His eyes remained firmly shut. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to kick someone when they are down?"

"No, actually. In my house, the rule is get your kicks in before they get back up and curse you," Draco replied with a smirk. He would never admit it, but he was relieved to hear the other boy talking again. The way Harry had been acting had scared him. "Besides, it was my elbow, not my foot."

"Oh, big difference." With Draco's help, Harry managed to sit up. "I feel like I got hit by a truck," Harry sighed. "What the hell happened?"

"You got all hot and bothered about your dear godfather, and then you bloody passed out!" Draco answered. "Probably overrode the numbing potion."

"I'm beat."

Draco frowned lightly, considering the situation. Harry still sat on the ground, head cradled in his hands. Despite the fact that Draco had a lot more he'd like to discuss with Harry, especially concerning Sirius Black, but he had the feeling that Harry wasn't up for much more excitement. It was no fun goading the other boy if he'd just pass out again. So Draco had to wait.

"I'll help you to your dorm, Potter. Wouldn't want you freezing to death out here." Draco grabbed Harry under his arms, pulling him to his feet. "But if you pass out again, I'm leaving your heavy ass on the castle steps."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the reviews! I don't speak Latin, so any Latin used in this chapter was found via the internet, so it may not be perfect. The _italics_ is the translation of the Latin phrases, not part of the speech.

The cold darkness seemed to surround Harry, blinding him like a cover over his eyes. He knew he was outside; he could feel the grass brushing against his bare legs. But there was no moon, no stars to light the way. It was oddly silent, as if someone had cast a spell over the area. Harry tried to think back to how he had arrive outside, but his mind was blank.

"Harry Potter," a frighteningly familiar voice hissed. Suddenly, as if conjured, Voldermort appeared in the darkness, his eyes glowing serpentine red. Panic swelled in Harry's chest as he grasped for his wand. "Will you never learn, boy? I will win this war, wether you win the battle or not."

Before he could stop himself, Harry cried, "You will never win! Good will always triumph!" The words sounded far braver than he felt. His wand was nowhere to be found, and the panic was quickly changing to mind numbing fear.

Voldermort laughed, a deep, harsh laugh. "Aut vincere aut mori, my dear boy." _Either conquer or die_. As he spoke, Voldermort extended one skeletal finger to stroke an icy path down Harry's cheek. Harry desperately wanted to pull away, but felt frozen in place. "And now for your final lesson, boy," the Dark Lord hissed. Despite his menacing stare, his tone was surprisingly kind as he continued, "Non semper erit aestas, Potter. Omnia mutantur nos et mutamur in illis." _It will not always be summer. All things change and we change with them._

"What?" Harry cried, unable to understand the other man's words, but instinctively knowing his meaning all the same.

"Veritas vos liberabit. One day, you will understand your position in this world, boy." _The truth shall make you free. _As he spoke, Voldermort's body began to change. His skin colored, his body filling out as it lost height. Suddenly, it was Dumbledore that stood before Harry, a kind smile on his weathered face. "One day, my dear boy, it will all be clear to you," Dumbledore whispered to Harry, pressing his dry lips against Harry's cheek.

"I don't understand..." Harry broke off in a surprised gasp as the older man's hands closed in around his throat, tightening with every passing second. When Harry looked into Dumbledore's face, he saw nothing but darkness. And then he heard Voldermort's voice once again in the darkness.

"Abyssus abyssum invocat." _Hell calls hell._ Suddenly, Harry was falling through the darkness...falling, falling...

He woke with a start as strong hands gripped him, pulling him from the dream. Blinking away the remaining darkness, Harry focused on the pale face of Draco Malfoy hovering above him. "Potter?" Draco said unsurely.

"Yeah," Harry replied, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. The dream had been so intense, the fear so real, that he was now drenched in a cold sweat. The muscles in his neck were tightly knotted, and he ran his hand down his neck to try and loosen the muscles.

"You were talking in your sleep. In Latin!" Draco cried as he released Harry, stepping back to perch on the bed beside Harry's bed. "I caught some of it, but I could hardly understand your muttering."

"What did I say?" Harry asked. He was starting to remember his dream and he hoped that he hadn't given Draco any more ammunition by crying or something. The dream had been terrifying and confusing, but Harry wasn't about to explain that to Draco.

"Something about conquering, something about summer. You really should learn to speak properly, Potter. You managed to mutilate the Latin language," Draco sneered.

"Oh, sure. Next time I'm talking in my sleep, I'll remember to enunciate clearly, just for you," Harry snapped in reply.

"Gee, thanks."

Harry met Draco's smirk with one of his own. "It was just a nightmare, Malfoy. Not a Latin test. It was probably all gibberish."

Draco had no response for Harry, but something seemed to be bothering him. Harry kicked off his covers, moving to stretch. As he did, Draco quietly asked, "Did he kill anyone?" Harry was so taken off guard that his mouth nearly dropped open. He'd purposefully avoided mentioning the exact nature of his dream, but Draco seemed to have guessed it.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Potter. Did Voldermort kill anyone? Was that why you had a vision?" Draco seemed oddly subdued, almost afraid, but he had casually tossed out the Dark Lord's name without hesitation.

"This wasn't a vision, Malfoy. Just a nightmare," Harry replied. A sudden thought occurred to him; Draco's concern most likely had something to do with his father. After all, the senior Malfoy was Voldermort's go-to man. But that also put him high on the danger list. If anything had happened, there was a good chance Draco's father was involved. Harry almost went on to comfort the other boy, to ensure him of his father's safety, when another thought caught him. "How do you know about my visions?"

The question quickly erased the look of relief from Draco's face. He seemed to be debating on how to answer, before finally replying, "It's a castle rumor. Everyone knows you're a freak." Though it was intended as an insult, Draco's words fell short.

"Bullshit," Harry spat. He was suddenly furious with the other boy. Draco wasn't suppose to know any intimate details of his life. "You've been spying on me. And not just today, with Sirius. You really are pathetic, Malfoy. How do you do it?"

Draco groaned, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. "Get over yourself. You're paranoid! Why would I spy on you? If I had any real interest in your life, I have many other ways of finding out anything I want. I wouldn't need to resort to silly tricks."

"You're still avoiding the question," Harry pointed out, also standing so that he was eye level with Draco. "How did you find out about my visions? No one knows except a small group of people, and no one you associate with would be on that list." Harry paused, before continuing, "Unless of course your dear daddy has been sharing his Death Eater information with his little Death Eater in training."

Anger flashed in Draco's eyes. "I'm not a Death Eater."

"Then tell me how you know."

The boys were locked in an angry gaze, neither willing to turn away first. After a moment, Draco broke the gaze, putting on his best smirk. "Potter, you're so convinced that evil forces are out to ruin your life, that you never thought of the simplest solution." Harry waited for him to go on, still glaring at the blonde boy. "My godfather was talking with Dumbledore and I happened to overhear them discussing your little 'visions'. I wasn't trying to listen in. Okay? It wasn't Voldemort or even my father. My godfather told me."

"Your godfather?" Harry echoed. "Who is your godfather?"

"None of your business!" Draco snorted.

"Wrong, Malfoy," Harry laughed in reply. "You snooped on me and now you know about my godfather. It's only fair if you spill the beans too. Or are you embarrassed? Who is it? One of Voldemort's favorite henchmen?" Harry sneered. "Aside from your daddy dearest, of course."

"Would you lay off with the Death Eater jabs?" Draco cried. "Haven't you got anything better than that?"

"Just say it, Malfoy. Who is it?"

"Severus Snape."

Harry felt a combination between a laugh and a gasp catch in his throat. "What? Snape is your godfather? But...I never thought..."

Draco cut in with a snide comment. "That's quite obvious. Don't worry. I've heard it hurts the first time, but that should pass."

"Shut up, Malfoy. What are you still doing here anyway? I've been asleep for hours. Were you watching me sleep?"

"Come on, Potter. Even a first year knows you can't leave a person alone after they've ingested a numbing potion," Draco smirked, settling back down onto the bed beside Harry's bed. Harry flushed in embarrassment, having forgotten that little fact. "Besides," Draco continued, "if you'll remember, we never quite settled the matter of your godfather, the convict. I really don't have any reason to keep me from screaming to the corners of the world about Sirius Black. So, do you want to give me a reason?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest, his smirk widening.

Despite the anger Harry felt flare up again, he tried to be civil. "What do you want, Malfoy? Money?"

"Yeah, because I need your money," Draco laughed. "I'm a Malfoy, not a Weasley. Money has little sway over me."

"Then what?"

Draco frowned in concentration as he tried to think of a fitting payment for his silence. "Okay, first of all, at the Valentine's Day Feast, I want you to publically announce that I am a superior seeker and a God on the Quidditch Pitch." Harry groaned, but nodded in agreement. "And, you'll start doing my DADA homework for me. I have no time for that rubbish, but you seem to have a flair for it." Again, Harry nodded, hoping that Draco's demands didn't get much worse than that. "And finally, you'll help me with some...extra-curricular studies."

Harry didn't trust the smile that crossed Draco's face. "I do all that, and you'll keep your mouth shut about Sirius? And I mean really shut, no blabbing to those lumps you call friends or your father. And you can't add anything extra on to this agreement later on. This is a one time payment, alright?" Draco smiled in response, giving a slight nod. "Fine. Then it's a deal." Harry extended his hand to Draco, offering a handshake to seal the deal.

"It's a deal."


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the reviews! I'm getting the feeling some of you are enjoying my story :) Forgive my slowness in updating this chapter. My son just turned 1 years old (yay!) and I've been super busy with party planning and present wrapping. Sorry! I'll do my best to be quicker next chapter.

The sun was shining through the crack in the curtain of Harry's bed, managing to center right in on him. He groaned, trying to roll away from the light. Though he'd slept well after his nightmare, he still felt tired, mentally and physically. The last 24 hours had come with many varied emotions that he hadn't even began to process yet. He'd never expected to see another day, and yet he was still there, still alive. And that was completely due to Draco Malfoy. Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he did feel as if someone had offered him a second chance at life. However, he wasn't sure he was ready to take it just yet. Not when his thoughts were still haunted by memories he couldn't escape.

Harry roughly rubbed his eyes, as if he could rub away the images burned behind his eyelids. During the day, he usually managed to keep everything locked away, but lately it just seemed to creep into every moment, every thought. It was why he'd made the decision to kill himself. He couldn't bear the idea of living another day in such agony, always tortured by the events of his past. Oddly enough, since the night before, his mind had been too busy focusing on the mystery of Draco Malfoy to let any other thoughts in. The same wasn't true for while he slept, though. No one could stop the nightmares then.

Someone groaned from just outside the curtain, surprising Harry, who knew for a fact that no students were due to return from break until the next day. The noise effective pulled him from his downward spiral of thoughts as he wondered who the culprit could be. Confused, but not afraid, he gently peeked through the curtain, half-expecting to see a house-elf lingering outside the bed. Lying on the next bed over, hair mussed from sleep, was Draco. The light that had woken Harry seemed to be haunting Draco as well, as he tried to bury his head under the pillow.

"Well hello there, Sleeping Beauty," Harry laughed. He tried not to laugh as the other boy jumped in surprise, nearly tumbling off the edge of the bed.

"What the hell?" Draco looked around in confusion.

"Malfoy, what are you still doing here?" Harry asked, still smiling in amusement.

Sitting up clumsily, Draco groaned again. "Oh shit! I must have fallen asleep," Draco swore, tossing the red pillow he'd been holding away from him with a look of disgust. "I can't believe I slept in a Gryffindor's bed! Who knows what sort of diseases I could have caught? How many generations of Gryffindorks have slept here? Oh no! Tell me it's not Longbottom's!"

"No, that's not Neville's," Harry answered, his smile growing. He was enjoying Draco's discomfort too much to be offended at the boy's insults aimed at his house. "Actually, that's Ron's bed."

Draco looked as if he'd just been told the bedding carried the plague. Harry watched as he tried to find a way to climb off of the bed without coming in contact with any part of it. "Do you think I can catch Weasel off these sheets?" Draco asked, nose crinkled in disgust as he eyed the sheets. "When was the last time he bathed?"

Harry laughed, despite the insult to his best friend. The truth was, Harry wouldn't want to sleep in Ron's bed either. Since hitting the peak of puberty, Ron had growing increasingly lax when it came to his personal hygiene. Though Harry would never tell Draco any of this, he still found the blonde boy's insults amusing. "Calm down, Malfoy. I'm fairly sure the sheets have been changed recently," Harry smiled.

"Oh, how reassuring," Draco said, finally managing to slide off the edge of the bed without ever having his skin come in contact with the sheets. "I need to go shower."

Though he seemed very eager to leave, Draco suddenly stopped in the doorway and turned back to where Harry sat. The look in his silver eyes was a strange mix of emotions, some that Harry could hardly decipher. It almost seemed as if he was hesitant to leave, but Harry couldn't imagine why. For a moment, the two boys were silent as Harry waited to find out what Draco could possibly be thinking.

"Potter, don't do anything stupid today, alright?" Draco said quickly, his words coming out in a terse jumble.

"What?"

"Look...our deal is based solely on your existence. If you're dead, than the deal is off, got it?" Draco attempted a smug sneer, but it crumbled into a frown. "So don't think just because I agreed not to blab, you are free to off yourself again. Because if you do, I'll go running to the press so quick, you'll spin in your grave."

"Okay," Harry agreed softly. He was becoming increasingly unnerved by the look in Draco's eyes.

"Well, good," Draco said, sounding a bit confused, as if he had been ready for a fight. "Then I expect to see you tonight to finish my DADA homework. We'll meet in the library, got it?"

"Fine, Malfoy. After dinner, in the library."

Draco hesitated another minute in the doorway before leaving. His footsteps echoed lightly in the silent dorm, gradually fading away. Harry heard the portrait swing shut and then it was quiet. The brief conversation had certainly been strange, and Harry added it to the list of events he had yet to process. Sighing, he decided to put off thinking about everything for a little bit longer and just take a shower instead.

Harry turned the hot water up as high as it would go in the shower, filling the bathroom with steam and clouding the mirrors. During the school term, there was little time for Harry to enjoy a quiet shower, but he'd taken advantage of the decreased student population over the break to luxuriate in the endless supply of hot water. As he undressed, tossing his sleeping clothes into a pile by the door, Harry caught sight of the light scars that marred the skin of his forearms. Draco's spell had been strong. The scars were nearly all healed.

He traced a finger along the pink lines, sending tingles through the healing skin. In a strange way, he hoped the scars didn't heal completely. Though killing himself seemed less like a reality and more like a passing fancy at the moment, he didn't want to forget where his desperation to escape the memories had taken him. If Draco hadn't walked in to the Gryffindor dorm room exactly when he did, Harry knew he wouldn't be alive. But Draco had, and there was no point following that train of thought. Because of the deal Harry had made to protect Sirius, there was no way he was going anywhere soon.

Stepping into the shower, Harry allowed the hot water to melt away his thoughts, imagining them swirling away down the drain with the water. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and let the water flow over him.

"Potter, I think I left my..." Draco drifted off as he entered the bathroom, catching sight of Harry standing under the steaming water.

Harry sighed, upset at having his shower interrupted. He opened his eyes slowly, glaring at Draco through the water. "Yes, Malfoy?" he asked, drawing out the words into a decent imitation of Draco's drawl.

Draco looked startled and a bit uncomfortable, his gaze firmly on the floor. "I think I left my cloak here. But I couldn't find it," he said. "I thought you might have moved it. Or burnt it."

"Nope, sorry. I haven't seen it," Harry shrugged. He kept waiting for Draco to move towards the door, but the other boy seemed frozen in place. "Is there anything else?" Harry asked, the hint of a smirk pulling on his lips.

"No. That's...uh...it," Draco said, clearing his throat nervously.

Harry was immensely amused by the other boys obvious unease. "Are you waiting for me to invite you in, Malfoy?"

"What?" Draco's head popped up, meeting Harry's gaze for half a second before he spun on his heel abruptly, turning to face the wall. "You're mental, Potter! As if I'd want to shower with you," he sneered. "Don't make me ill!" Harry laughed in response, seeming to upset Draco even more, as the blonde turned an interesting shade of red.

Draco growled in anger, not saying another word as he stalked out of the bathroom suddenly. Harry could hear him stomping down the hall, slamming the door behind him. Though he was now free to finish his shower, the calm mood had been broken, so Harry shut off the water and stepped out.

His reflection in the mirror caught his eye across the room. How was he, a skinny, scrawny, runt, expected to beat the Dark Lord? Sure, he'd been lucky enough to escape before. But luck would only take him so far. Someday he'd be standing toe to toe with Voldermort once more, and he'd have nothing but himself to rely on. In his personal opinion, he didn't stand a chance in hell. The sight of his small frame only depressed Harry once more. As it stood now, he wouldn't have to worry about trying killing himself again. He could just wait for Voldermort's next attack.

As if just thinking the name had summoned it, Harry was suddenly struck by a brutal flash of pain, centering at his scar.The intensityfaded quickly, but the pain remained a dull, throbbing ache. Voldermort seemed to be busy, whatever he was doing. Not that Harry was in an hurry to find out. He had a feeling it would be a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** As always, thank you for the reviews!

Harry lingered over his dinner that evening, hoping to put off his meeting with Draco as long as possible. All day, his headache had been steadily getting worse, to the point where he wanted nothing more than to sleep through the rest of the pain. But he had a feeling Draco would be less than sympathetic, and Harry didn't dare risk breaking their agreement. The other boy had been leaving the hall just as Harry sat down, which meant he was surely waiting impatiently in the library.

Still moving with a heavy reluctance, Harry pushed himself up from the bench, doing his best to ignore the spike of pain that made his eyes water slightly as he moved into a standing position. He only hoped that Draco's homework assignment was a simple one, because otherwise Harry doubted he could focus enough to get the other boy the grade he expected.

Even the walk to the library was pure torture, each step seeming to compound the blinding pain. Harry grit his teeth, resolutely putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe he could convince Draco to just give him the assignment and then let him go back to the dorm to complete it. That way Harry could at least lay down for a bit before giving it a go.

As soon as he entered the library, Harry caught sight of Draco sitting at a table, an array of books and papers already spread out before him. Surprisingly, he didn't look impatient at all. In fact, he seemed to engrossed with whatever he was doing to have even noticed Harry's lateness. He glanced up briefly as Harry plopped into the seat across from him, but Draco quickly returned to his reading, not saying a word.

Harry took the opportunity to rest his eyes, leaning his head into his hands so he could massage his scalp. It was a small help, but the relief was more than Harry had enjoyed all day. The reprieve was brief, however, as Draco set down his book and turned his focus to Harry.

"Finally decided to show up, Potter?" Draco sneered.

"I was enjoying the roast," Harry replied dully.

"Yes, well, while you were dawdling in the Great Hall, I decided I didn't want to waste my time having you do my DADA homework tonight. Homework can wait." The smile Draco flashed Harry was none to reassuring. "I think I'd rather get started on the other part of our bargain."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily.

"I've got some spells I need to work on. And I need a test subject."

The words took only a second for Harry to process before he was quickly on his feet, backing away from the table. "Hell no, Malfoy!" Harry cried. "No way! I'm not going to put myself at your mercy!" Harry shook his hands wildly, as if he could disperse the very idea with the movement.

The look Draco leveled at Harry was both dark and threatening. "I don't recall giving you any sort of choice in the matter, Potter. It seems to me that we had a deal, did we not? And you agreed to help me with my extra-curricular activities. This happens to be one of them."

Harry paused, thinking over the situation. He knew Draco wouldn't hesitate to share Sirius' secret with the world, something Harry could not afford to have happen. But he'd be insane to agree to let Draco cast unknown spells on him. Who know what Malfoy Senior had been teaching his son?

"Do you think I'm bonkers? I would never have agreed if I'd known you meant to curse me! There is no way!" Harry shook his head vigorously, ignoring the resulting spikes of pain. "Malfoy, I'll do your homework, make a fool of myself, anything else you want...but I won't do that!"

Draco looked entirely unimpressed by Harry's rant. He gracefully folded his arms across his chest, pursing his thin lips in a show of impatience. "Look, Potter, we both know you'd do anything to save the convict. And I'm not budging on the one. So save us both time, and just get over it," Malfoy sneered.

"But...uh..." Harry trailed off, at a loss for an argument to fight back. "How do I know you won't try some awful spell out on me?"

"Oh, please, Potter." Draco rolled his eyes, seeming to lose what little patience he still retained. "If I wanted to kill or maim you, wouldn't I just do it? Why would I ask your permission first? Look, we'll stay close by. And if it will make you feel better, we can even let Dumbledore know that we are studying together, so that if you should mysteriously die, he'll know who to come to," Draco offered.

Between the argument and Harry's pre-existing headache, he was more than ready to drop the whole subject and give his head a rest. "Fine! Whatever, Malfoy!" Harry cried, putting up his hands in a sign of resignation.

"Good," Draco said, a satisfied smirk curving his lips. "Why don't we exit to a more fitting location?" He rose, not waiting to see if Harry followed as he gathered up his books and left the library. Harry trailed after him, moving with a slow dread. Though he had agreed to Draco's arrangements, he was still not looking forward to the experience.

The empty classroom Draco chose was just down the main hallway from the library, hardly out of the way. Harry had expected to find himself lost somewhere in the dungeons, typical Slytherin stomping grounds. But Draco seemed to be sticking to his promise of remaining close to the other castle occupants. However, Harry didn't miss the number of silencing spells Draco cast on the room before locking the door.

"Have a seat, Potter," Draco said, gesturing towards a dust covered desk. "I'll just be a moment." The blonde boy started to idly flip through a book, seeming to consider certain pages before going on, until he'd reached the end of the book. He picked up another, repeating the process before finally coming to a stop on a page, a wicked looking smile crossing his face.

"Malfoy, wait, I'm not so sure about this," Harry started, watching Draco's wand hand warily.

"Would you knock it off?" Draco growled. "You are starting to annoy me." He raised his wand quickly, leveling it at Harry.

Harry never heard a spell, but he was suddenly hit by a blinding, white-hot pain, centered at his scar. He heard himself whimper as he fell to his knees, clutching his hands over the scar in agony. The skin beneath his hands felt hot and raw.

"Stop!" Harry cried, blind with pain, but desperately trying to seek out Draco for some relief. The pain was now unbearable, and Harry felt himself clawing at the flesh as if he could tear the pain free.

Hands gripped his wrist, pulling them away from Harry's head and tucking them against his chest. Draco kneeled beside him, trying to keep him from inflicting any more damage on his sensitive skin. He didn't know what else he could do for Harry, though. Whatever was happening wasn't the result of a spell or curse; Draco hadn't had time to cast one before Harry had collapsed in pain.

"Potter, what the hell is going on?" Draco asked wildly, panic evident in his voice.

"I think...scar!" Harry managed through gritted teeth. Indeed, his scar looked like a fresh wound, raised and bloody where the skin had split. Tiny droplets of blood slid along Harry's nose and down his cheek, giving the oddest impression that he was crying tears of blood.

Draco tried to calm himself, thinking over the situation. He knew he had to get Potter some sort of help, but with the way he was thrashing, it was too dangerous to try and carry him anywhere. However, Draco also didn't want to try and explain why Harry was in an abandoned classroom, surrounded by a number of dark magic books checked out to Draco himself.

"Look, Potter, I'm going to put you in a body-bind. It won't do a thing for the pain, but I'll be able to move you," Draco explained quickly, already raising his wand. Harry didn't protest, but the look he turned to Draco as the spell was cast spoke volumes as to his discomfort with the situation.

As soon as Harry was still, Draco wasted no time in getting help. With the other boy slung awkwardly over his shoulder, Draco ran as best he could towards the closest place he could think to go; Dumbledore's office. However, before he'd gotten more than a few steps, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Draco, what's going on?" Snape asked, giving the strange situation a once over. "What have you done?" The man's brow furrowed in concern.

"I didn't do anything! I think it's his scar...he was screaming bloody murder!" Draco cried in reply, lowering his burden to the ground so Snape could better understand Harry's problem. Snape frowned as he caught sight of the blood trickling from the scar, now frozen midway down Harry's cheek.

"Damn," Snape swore. "Draco, I need you to go get Headmaster Dumbledore. I'll take Potter to the infirmary. But speak of this to no one else, except Dumbledore! Do you understand?" Snape asked, his gaze fixed intensely on Draco.

"Of course!" Draco replied, a bit of indignation creeping into his voice. "I haven't told anyone about his bloody visions yet, have I?"

This remark earned him a dark look from his godfather. "Just go, Draco," Snape sneered.

Draco hurried through the halls, thankful that he met no one along the way. Stopping before the entrance, he considered the stone gargoyle with growing dread. Snape hadn't given him the password, and Dumbledore's office was clearly locked.

"Um, lemon drop?" he guessed. There was no movement. Draco racked his brain for another candy, silently cursing the Headmaster for choosing such dumb passwords. "Chocolate frogs?" he tried. Again, the statue was still. Frustrated, Draco slammed his hands against the stone, crying, "How the hell should I know? Come on! Peppermint sticks! Bloody lollipops! I don't know!"

Just as Draco was about to launch into a barrage of swear words which he was quite sure had nothing to do with the password, Dumbledore voice suddenly came from behind, interrupting him mid-swear. "Mr. Malfoy, is there something I can help you with tonight?" Dumbledore asked genially.

"Professor Snape asked me to come get you, sir," Draco began, slightly out of breath from his outburst. "He's in the infirmary."

"Is he hurt?" Dumbledore cut in quickly, a hint of fear hiding the usual twinkle in his eyes. "Has something happened?"

"No, sir, it's not him," Draco began. "It's Harry Potter."

Draco watched in fascination as Dumbledore went from relieved to horrified, all in the matter of the few seconds it had taken to say the name Harry Potter. "Thank you for coming to find me, Mr. Malfoy. You may return to what you were doing," Dumbledore said. He didn't wait for a reply from Draco before he headed for the infirmary. Draco watched him go, debating whether to follow him or not, but finally deciding against it. After all, it was no concern of his what happened to Harry Potter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Stand By

**Author: **Danea

_Previously published under another pen name at a separate site_

**Summary:** After the events of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry finds himself depressed and terribly lonely. Even his closest friends can't see what's wrong. A chance encounter over Winter Break with one of his greatest rivals (no, not Voldermort or Snape) leads Harry down a path he certainly never expected. Rated M for language, mention of abuse/rape (non-descript), slight AU.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I am American, therefore any misuse of British slang is simply ignorance.  
**Author's Notes:** As always, thank you for the reviews! This is sort of a short chapter with a lot of convo. The next chapter is a lot of action...so it all balances out!

He recognized it first by the smell. Even before Harry opened his eyes, he knew he was in the infirmary because of the distinct smell of the room, a mixture of sanitized sheets and potions. It had become an all too familiar smell for Harry, who had found himself tucked into one of the infirmary beds at least once a year since his arrival at Hogwarts. This time, however, he was more eager than ever to get out.

Despite the ache that ran through his whole body, Harry forced himself to sit up, groping blindly on the table beside the bed for his glasses. As he slid them on, the room came into sharp focus, and Harry became aware that it was no longer evening, but sometime in the mid-morning. Warm rays of sunlight were just beginning to filter through the windows, bright enough to light the room. He had been out for at least the night.

"Mr. Potter, you're awake." Dumbledore entered the infirmary, a relieved smile lighting his face.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, surprised to hear the rawness of his voice. Slowly, the events of the night were coming back to him. The vision from Voldermort; someone had cast a silencing charm on him after he'd screamed for what felt like hours. No wonder his throat hurt.

"How much of last night do you remember, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. The older wizard gently perched on the edge of Harry's bed, focusing his gaze on the boy. Despite the easy nature of his voice, Harry had a feeling that the answer he was about to give was rather important to Dumbledore.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, one hand reaching up to tentatively touch his scar, which was still raw and sore to the touch. "It's all sort of blurred together. I think some of it was a dream..." he trailed off, trying his best to sort out the strange images in his mind.

"Why don't you just give me the overall synopsis and we'll do our best to figure out what was real and what was not, alright?"

Harry nodded, and then begin to speak, letting the memories flow out of his head. "I'd had a headache all day, because of my scar. I knew Voldermort was up to something, but since he's learned to block the visions most of the time, I didn't get much from it except the headache. But then, it hit me all of the sudden. The pain was so intense, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. It wasn't like anything I've ever felt before. There was no vision accompanying it; it wasn't the echo of someone else's pain. It felt as if Voldermort had reached his hands into my head and was wreaking havoc inside of me."

Dumbledore was listening intently, and Harry made note of the frightened look in his eye. Obviously, what had happened was not a good sign. Though Voldermort had managed to gain some control over what Harry saw through the visions, he had never been able to effect Harry himself directly. But he had seemed to be in complete control the night before.

Harry went on, though the back of his mind was filled with thoughts. "But then, through the pain, I could hear something. I don't think Voldermort meant for it to happen, but I could hear what was going on, as if I was hearing through his ears. There was a small group of Death Eaters with him, though I didn't recognize the voices. Voldermort didn't talk at all. They seemed to be talking about him. I think he was doing some sort of spell or ritual, something that changed the link between us." Harry paused, thinking for a moment. "I couldn't hear most of the words. But they were concerned that the spell would weaken him."

"It all went silent again, for a little bit. I think I must have been here by then, because the edge had been taken off the pain, though it was still there. Then the vision started. Or the dream. It wasn't like before, where I watched him kill as if it was a memory playing on a screen. I thought I was actually there, standing beside him. We were walking through a Muggle town, with at least a dozen Death Eaters behind us. I could see the people...they didn't understand what was going on. They were so scared. A little girl ran in front of us, trying to cross the street, but I collided with her, knocking us both down. I think I scraped my knee..."

As he let his voice drift off, a sudden fear gripped Harry. He kicked back the covers suddenly, pulling up the leg of the pajamas to reveal his knee, which now sported a large scab. The realization hit Harry hard, and he turned to Dumbledore in a panic. "It was real?" Harry cried.

Dumbledore frowned slightly, taking a moment before he answered, "There is much we don't understand about the events of last night, Harry. But it seems evident that something has changed concerning the link which connects you to Lord Voldermort. I think it is important that I hear the rest of your memories of last night."

Though Dumbledore's response left many unanswered questions, Harry nodded, continuing on with his explanation of the previous night's events. "After I stood back up, I had to hurry to catch up to Voldermort. By then, the streets were nearly empty. The Death Eaters spread out, as if keeping watch. And then Voldermort...and me...we approached a building. He had his wand out, but I couldn't move. And then it all sort of got fuzzy." Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to remember more. "My wand was out...but I don't remember taking it out. But I was holding it. And then Voldermort...he took it!" Harry's eyes popped open. "Where's my wand?" he asked fearfully.

"Don't worry, Harry. Your wand is here," the older wizard said reassuringly. "Can you remember any more?"

Harry's headache began to return as he tried desperately to bring forth any further memories of the night before. It felt as if he was missing the final piece to an elaborate puzzle; he had some idea of the picture, but without the last piece, it didn't seem to make much sense. Despite his effort, all he could see was brief flashes, glimpses of memories.

"I don't know," Harry sighed.

"Perhaps if I give you some of the information I have collected concerning the events of last night, it will trigger some of your memories," Dumbledore suggested. At Harry's nod, he began to speak, "The building you saw was a Muggle orphanage, the one that Voldermort himself lived in as a child, in fact. During his first rise to power, the building was damaged in a mysterious fire, but not destroyed. It was rebuilt a few years later, and recently expanded to include a larger dormitory."

"Did he destroy it last night?" Harry asked. "Is that why we were there?"

"No, Harry. Voldermort did not destroy the building last night," Dumbledore replied, sadness coloring his eyes as he met Harry's gaze. "It seems that the orphanage itself has been taken over as a Death Eater headquarters. However, in the process, many muggle lives were lost. To the best of our knowledge, all of the adults were killed. "

"And the children?" Harry asked, dreading the answer but needing to know all the same.

"It appears that for the time being, the muggle children are alive."

Though Dumbledore did not continue, Harry already knew what the older wizard hadn't said. Harry knew what had happened to the children. The image played through his mind like a dream; the muggle children, scared and cowering, locked together in a single room. Voldermort had taken them hostage, intending to use them as bait. The reason Harry's vision had been so different last night, so clear was because Voldermort intended him to know the exact details of the night. He intended to lure Harry out.

For a moment, Harry debated on whether to tell Dumbledore the rest of what he knew or not. If he did, Harry knew there was a great chance that the muggle children would die. Dumbledore would never let Harry face the Dark Lord alone, even if it meant saving someone else. Looking into the older wizard's eyes, Harry knew that if he wanted to save the children, there was only one possible thing to do.

"What is the Ministry doing about it?" Harry asked. "Have they tried to rescue them?"

"It seems that the orphanage has suddenly become quite unplottable. In fact, nearly every time a witch or a wizard tries to enter the Muggle town, they seem to forget just what they were looking for in the first place. Voldermort obviously does not want to be found. By the Ministry, at least." The look Dumbledore leveled at Harry made the boy wonder if the older man didn't already know the truth.

But Dumbledore continued, "At the moment, Harry, the Ministry is truly at a loss. I had hoped that some of your memories might give us a better idea of Voldermort's plan. But, alas, it seems that Voldermort's control over the link has been growing. He hasn't allowed you to view more than exactly what he wanted you to see."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, feeling slightly guilty for keeping the full truth from Dumbledore. "I wish I could help."

"Of course you do, Harry." Dumbledore patted his hand gently. The older man seemed to be drifting away from the conversation with Harry, into his own thoughts. "We always knew the link would only serve our purposes so long before Voldermort discovered it." He paused, smiling down at Harry. "Why don't you try to get some more rest?"

Harry nodded in agreement, scooting down in the bed so that he could lay down, making a show of settling in. He was grateful when Dumbledore chose not to linger, casting one last glance at Harry before leaving. Harry waited a moment, ears straining to listen. When it seemed certain that he was alone, he kicked off the covers.

"I know this is dumb, but what else can I do?" Harry murmured to the empty room.

He dressed quickly, making sure his wand was tucked into his belt. Voldermort had sent a clear message; only Harry could save the lives of the children. And no matter what it meant for him, he knew what he had to do. Whispering a silent charm, he waited for his invisibility cloak and his broom to appear in his hands. If he hesitated any longer, her thought he might lose his nerve, so Harry tossed the cloak over his shoulders, not pulling it all the way on quite yet,and climbed on to the broom. He never noticed the silver eyes watching him through the crack in the door as he took flight.


End file.
